


For You, And Your Denial

by eternaleponine



Category: For You And Your Denial (Song)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crowd goes wild for you and your denial, and I'm letting you go now.</p><p>(Complete song lyrics can be found <a href="http://www.plyrics.com/lyrics/yellowcard/foryouandyourdenial.html">here</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You, And Your Denial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tryslora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/gifts).



> A songfic written for [tryslora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora), who gave me the prompt when I was bored at work.

"Ignore it." 

I don't ignore it. The phone is blaring a song, one of _your_ songs, and you would hate me for it, that that is your ringtone. You would say I was going to give you away, that I was _trying_ to give you away, that I was sabotaging your career...

Hell, that's probably why you're calling now, even though I haven't said your name in going on four months. Not where anyone can hear, anyway. 

"I have to answer this," I tell him. His name is Casey and he's beautiful. Not like you're beautiful, that unnatural, otherworldly beauty that drew people to you even when you were playing gigs in venues barely bigger than garages. But beautiful anyway, and he's not afraid to let me love him.

I get up and take the phone into the bathroom. I catch a glimpse at the time as I slide my finger across the screen to answer the call. 4:06 am, but maybe it's not that late for you. Where are you today? I used to keep track but I don't anymore. What's the point?

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Your voice is soft, not angry, not yet. But you'll get there, because you always do. Because you hate me. Because you want me, and that's _why_ you hate me. But it's okay. It's all right. Whatever gets you through the night, I figure. Whatever lets you sleep.

"It's four in the morning," I tell you. 

"Is it? Did I wake you up?" You sound genuinely startled, but it quickly becomes snide.

"What do you think?" I snap back, because there's no way I'm letting you make me feel like shit. I used to, although you probably don't believe that. I used to feel bad when you got pissed off at me for things that weren't my fault. I used to feel guilty that you weren't comfortable living in your own skin, which so craved the touch of mine that you kept coming back, even though you swore every time, every damn time, that you wouldn't.

I had to walk away from you, because you never would have walked away from me. The deeper we fell into each other, the less of you I was allowed to have, and yet there you were again on my doorstep, time after time after time. 

"I said your name tonight," you say. "I said _your fucking name_ and it's a good damn thing I could pretend that I'd said Brenda, and that her name was Brandy and she was a little too busy to notice anyway, but I said _your_ goddamn name, and I hate you. I hate you for what you've done to me."

"Brandy, huh? How was she?"

Because this is the game you play. You get drunk and you fuck some girl or you try to, and then you call me to tell me about it because you know that I've moved on and you want me to think that you have, too. 

But you said my name. While you were fucking her. Or whatever.

And I stick the knife in and twist a little, because it's 4 am and I'm letting you go but you can't do the same and maybe I like that a little bit. Maybe I like the fact that you can't get me out of your head, even surrounded by your legions of fans, even though crowds go wild for you night after night. 

"She must have been pretty good, if she reminded you of me."

You told me we couldn't do it, but you meant that you couldn't. The higher your star rose, the more of a secret it had to be, because you were afraid. You were determined to maintain your artistic integrity but what about the integrity of your soul? 

I let you tear me apart for so long, as you left and came back, playing bigger and better shows but always coming home to me, except it didn't take long for there to be a third person in bed with us, and his name was Denial, and we could be plastered together with sweat and everything else and still he'd be between us, wedged between our hearts so that they never quite met.

"Don't," you say. "Don't start that shit. You want to ruin my life, but I won't let you."

"You're doing a fine job on your own," I say. I provoke you and I let you rage, because it's what you need and I loved you once, and really, I still do, but I had to let you go because you wouldn't let me hold on. 

I'm still the one you need when you can't stand your own company. Maybe someday you'll realize that that means something. Or maybe you'll just make your bed with some woman you feel nothing for, and have a threesome every night, her and you and your denial.


End file.
